


Indecent Exposure

by junko



Series: Scatter and Howl [54]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7441687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having been caught in the act, Byakuya and Renji struggle to get ready for the clan meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indecent Exposure

As Renji clambered off guiltily and fussed over what was wrecked and what was overheard, Byakuya trembled inwardly.

It’d been just like one of his wildest fantasies.

Only better, somehow. 

What Renji had given, he’d given freely. No coercion, no restraints--it was something they’d fallen into, spontaneously. Just as accidentally, they had been interrupted. Caught. But what had blossomed in the aftermath was entirely tantalizing--instead of a crawling, gut-twist of shame mixed with adrenaline, this feeling had been all heart-pounding and uplifting, almost, giddy-making. Even now Renji was flushed, giggling a little as he muttered, “Well. That’ll be awkward at tomorrow’s shift change….”

“Indeed.” Byakuya smiled inwardly. Not even trusting himself to lift his eyes, he stared at the indecent marks Renji had left behind on the kimono. 

Renji’s gaze must have followed Byakuya’s, as his eyes widened at the stains covering Byakuya’s kimono. “Ah, fuck,” he breathed. “All that silk… That must cost--”

Byakuya stopped him quickly. “Don’t worry over such a trifling thing. I have dozens. There’s even something comparable here in my quarters.” Almost the same cut, if Byakuya remembered correctly, and complete with the Kuchiki crest. After all, there were forever those occasions when Byakuya had to run straight from his captain duties to those of clan head. As Renji was still looking so forlorn, which was, frankly, very silly on such a huge, naked, tattooed man, Byakuya suggested: “Why don’t you clean up in the washroom while I change?”

“Ah, right,” Renji said. After a small hesitation, he dutifully took himself off to the tiny washroom where there wouldn’t be much more than a basin and a pitcher of water, but Aio filled it freshly every morning, whether Byakuya had slept in these quarters or not. It would be enough for Renji’s needs.

Byakuya quickly stripped out of his clothes. He moved swiftly because he knew it would offend Renji to see fine silk used as a crude towel. But, it would be too crowded to try to share the washroom and, at any rate, the silk served sufficiently. Like any soldier, Byakuya’s vanity only extended to practical measures. There was no time for a shower or a trip to the sento and, so long as he was able to change into fresh, dry underwear, he failed to see how that wasn’t ‘close enough.’

Besides, any trace scent of sex or sweat that might linger on his body only served to improve his mood. Any sort of cheer or amusement was something he’d be in short supply of, soon enough. 

Renji stepped out of the washroom just as Byakuya finished tying off his hakama. Dripping onto the tatami, Renji stared open-mouthed. He gaped so much Byakuya began to wonder if he’d managed to put something on backwards. Taking a quick inventory of all the ties, he finally had to ask, “What? What are you looking at?”

“You,” Renji breathed. “How are you even so… peerless?”

Byakuya hazarded a glance in the mirror to try to see what captivated Renji so much. What he saw was actually a bit of a mess. Yes, the clan kimono was nicely-tailored, because it had once been his father’s, but otherwise it was hardly anything special. Byakuya’s face was still a bit flushed from their earlier dalliance and sweat had stuck bits of hair up in very unnatural waves. Byakuya was still unused to seeing his hair shorter, and, even though Eishirō had done his best to give the ragged cut some appearance of intentionality, it still seemed harsh and hard around the edges, particularly with no kenseikan. 

Smoothing his hair down, Byakuya said, “The new hairpieces should arrive this month, with luck.”

“More’s the pity,” Renji said, his voice husky with desire.

Byakuya glanced over at Renji, half-expecting to see him completely aroused again. He wasn’t, though it was clear that it wouldn’t take much for him to be so. “You should get dressed. We have a clan meeting in an hour.”

Ignoring him, Renji padded over to flop down on the low bed. “Yeah, so about that,” Renji said, tucking his arms under his head. “You think you’ve got a retainer’s yukata that’d fit me?”

Watching Renji in the mirror, Byakuya sat down to try to bring some semblance of order to his hair. Renji might like the ‘bedhead’ look, but it would never do for a clan meeting of this importance. He dragged a comb through his hair, as he considered Renji’s question. “You are taller than most, but I’m sure we have something. Many of my bodyguard are nearly as broad as you, some perhaps even broader.”

Renji made a face like he was a little insulted by the idea and only grunted in response. 

Byakuya pulled the cord to alert Aio that he was in need of something. “I will have the clothes sent.” Then, with a regretful sigh, gave a lingering glance at Renji’s languid, naked pose, and added, “But you should probably put something on, or at least crawl under the blankets.”

Letting out a dark chuckle, Renji said, “Why? I thought you liked getting caught.”

Byakuya managed to stifle a gasp and kept his face stony as he said, “Suit yourself.”

Renji must have noted something in Byakuya’s expression because he laughed. Yet, he made no move to get dressed. Would he really just lie there, naked, when Aio arrived? 

Byakuya’s heart beat faster at the thought. 

Feigning disinterest, Byakuya went back to fixing his hair. It was impossible to get it to do anything reasonable without the kenseikan, but he tried. As he did, he kept glancing at Renji, who looked like he was settling in for a nap. So… Renji truly intended to be all splayed like that, naked, on display, all of his tattoos and… everything hanging out, lying there, clearly spent from sex when Aio arrived? 

Dear gods, that was such a turn on.

Yet, Byakuya wondered at this man. Why would Renji give him this? Didn’t it cost his reputation? If nothing else, surely it must be embarrassing to be seen this way--so clearly in Byakuya’s possession. 

Byakuya had to set the comb down for a moment and concentrate on breathing steadily. Thoughts like that would have him ruining this pair of fundoshi, as well. 

When he had his body under control, Byakuya opened his eyes. Renji grinned at him from the bed. It was his wolfish smile, the one that was all sharp teeth and wickedness, one that made him look particularly… dangerous, especially with the way the dark slashes of his facial tattoos cast his features in a constant, predatory grimace. 

“I know what you like, don’t I?” Renji growl-purred.

“You do,” Byakuya acknowledged. Looking away, he sucked in a breath. “But you’ve given it to me already. You don’t have to do it again.”

Renji let his head flop back after lifting his shoulder in a little shrug. “Eh, Aio’s seen pretty much all I’ve got all ready. Eishirō, too.”

Byakuya controlled a frown. Should he feel guilty about that? Perhaps he should, a little. After all, Renji had not always been complicit in this particular pleasure at the start of things. 

Turning around on the stool, Byakuya faced the bed. It was distracting, the sight of this body he never stopped craving, with its angles and hard plains and those mesmerizing black lines that moved with each breath, drawing his gaze down to the red thatch between Renji’s legs and what lay beyond it. Focusing, Byakuya carefully said, “If it’s what you want, I will enjoy it, of course. Very much.” Byakuya had to slow down, take a breath, because he wanted to blurt out how, if it were at all allowed, he would love to keep Renji like this all the time--nakedly powerful, for everyone to see what strength and manly beauty Byakuya commanded. But, not only was that impractical, it was… pure fantasy, the sorts of imaginings of fever dreams. “Yes, very, very much,” he said, starting again. “But, I’m already asking a lot of you tonight. I know you’re not fond of the role I’ve asked you to play.”

Renji snorted without lifting his head. To the ceiling he said, “Yeah, It’s true. I’d rather play at naked sex slave than fully clothed mafia tough any day. But, me and Zabimaru will give ‘em a good show. And, you know this thing of yours, where you like to have me exposed, it’s kind of flattering, I guess.”

“You don’t sound so certain, Renji.”

Byakuya could see a shoulder lift. “I’m just thinking it through out loud, is all. Thing is, I’d love to take you out on the town, hold hands in public, kiss in front of the whole division, wouldn’t I? Yeah, that’s super-sexy to me. So it’s not like I don’t get part of this--you wanting people to see what you got. I feel the same way. So, your PDA is a lot more Me-butt-ass-naked-D-A, but that’s cool. I’m still gonna take it as: you’re showing off how proud you are to be fucking me.”

“Indeed,” Byakuya murmured around a barely controlled chuckle. It never ceased to amaze him the extent to which Renji was willing to roll with the most sexual situations, as if they were commonplace. 

And how full of himself he was.

A knock came at the door. Byakuya gave Renji one last look as if to say ‘cover yourself or not, now’s the time to decide,’ and then said, “Enter.”

“My lord?” The door slid open and Aio knelt there, her head bowed, not looking up. Ah, the irony, Byakuya thought. She might not even see what Renji so willing wished to give. 

Byakuya said, “See if there is a Kuchiki retainer’s yukata in the lieutenant’s size if you will and bring it here.”

Aio gave a little nod, and it seemed she might leave without ever looking up, except that Renji yawned loudly and rolled over onto his stomach. She glanced up at the noise. Her eyes went wide. Byakuya felt himself thrilling to know what she saw, to see so plainly in her expression how deeply… aroused, yet horrified she was.

Yes.

That was part of the thrill, was it not? To see her eyes lock on the swell of Renji’s perfectly sculpted ass and flush with desire for a split second before realizing the full situation. Renji on Byakuya’s bed, naked. Not for her. Then what does she feel? Her face was flushed and her eyes darted away, as if afraid… then, she picked herself up and half-crawled and scrambled away with a mortified squeak.

Renji laughed happily. “Yeah, that was kind of fun. I kind of get it now,” he said rolling over and sitting up. Then, seeing that the door was still wide open, Renji’s eyes got big and he grasped for the covers. “Shit! Shut the door, would you?!”

Interestingly, that’s when Byakuya felt himself really stir. Oh dear. He enjoyed Renji’s panic just a little too much. All the same, he pulled himself to his feet and hurried to slide the door shut. “There,” Byakuya said. “You’re safe.”

Renji clutched the sheets to his body. “Thanks.”

Byakuya swallowed a smirk--after all, this had been Renji’s idea--but, it was time to concentrate on the business at hand. “After Eishirō fits you, we should decide how you want to make your entrance.”

“Hey, can we have some cool signal?” Renji said, a strange little schoolboy smile turning up his mouth. “Like maybe you tug your ear or something?”

“That’s far too obvious, Renji,” Byakuya pointed out. “You’ll have to listen in and use your judgment.”

Renji looked a little terrified at that thought. 

Leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, Byakuya let out a little sigh. How could this man be both so completely full of himself while simultaneously lacking confidence? “I doubt it will be terribly mysterious,” Byakuya said, trying, unsuccessfully, not to let his eyes follow Renji’s movements as he sat up on the bed. Damn those tattooes. They were so captivating, even now, after all this time, Byakuya was drawn to each line, like a moth to a flame. With a little internal shake, Byakuya continued, “At some point, I’m sure to have to remind Yakimura of my superior strength and how foolish continued attacks on me truly are. If he seems at all unimpressed, you can saunter out and flash your muscles.”

“Saunter, huh?” Renji said with another lascivious smile.

“As you like,” Byakuya said, fighting down a blush. What could he say? He must have chosen that word because the image that popped to his mind was of the first time he’d seen Renji, in the Eleventh’s area. The sun making his crimson topknot shimmer like fire, Renji had strode out onto the hard-packed, blood-spattered ground barefoot and bare chested, Zabimaru in its massive, toothy released form, jauntily slung over naked shoulder. It had been a sight to stop hearts and stir passions. 

When a knock came at the door, Byakuya noticed Renji pulled himself under the covers. A familiar masculine voice said in a tone that brooked no more shenanigans, “It’s Eishirō, my lord, with the lieutenant’s clothes.”

“We’re quite decent, Eishirō,” Byakuya said, sliding the door open for him.

Getting to his feet, Eishirō glanced sternly up at Byakuya as if to say ‘Oh, I think not!’ But, instead, his lips pressed together tightly and said, “I have some things that might fit in Kuchiki blue, Master Abarai.”

Both Byakuya and Eishirō turned toward Renji in time to see him stretching out his toe as far as it could go in order to snag his hakama from where it had been cast aside. He pulled back his naked leg quickly. Casually, Renji said, “Cool.”

“Yes, well, I’ll leave you to it,” Eishirō said with a deep bow. When he came up he said, “Your guests have arrived, my lord…” He’d started to leave, but his eyes lit on Byakuya’s kimono. “What are you wearing?”

Byakuya glanced down at his father’s kimono.. The haori and kosode were deep blue with the Kuchiki mon, but the hakama were a riot of white swans in flight on a light blue background. “You think I shouldn't choose something so… unlucky?”

“I… no, it’s not that, my lord.” Eishirō’s mouth worked for a moment, but then he seemed to decide against whatever he might say. Awkwardly, he substituted whatever he’d meant to say with: “You look very good in it, your lordship.”

“Mmm,” Byakuya said, unconvinced. Perhaps Eishirō thought the choice a bad one, since Sōjun was not known for his ruthless military prowess--and that showing up to a war counsel in the clothes of a poet seemed ill-advised at best. Plucking at the silk of the hakama, Byakuya considered the fact that his father must have had these commissioned. The swan was a favorite of mother’s, Sōjun himself being more associated with the snowy owl. Still, it seemed appropriate enough to Byakuya. He let go of the silk and said, “Maybe fate guided my hand to remind me of my father’s kind and expansive heart and of my mother’s ruthless political maneuvering.”

Eishirō’s mouth made a little ‘oh.’ He bowed again. “As always, you are far wiser than your humble servant, my lord.”

At that moment, Renji came out of the washroom where he must have snuck off to change during their conversation. “Whaddya think?”

The hakama were a bit short on him, but that added a certain… ruggedness, especially as Renji was barefoot. He’d clearly had to tie the kosode a little loosely--or perhaps not at all--in order to accommodate his shoulders and that meant that the folds of the silk hung open to reveal hints of chest tattoos and rock hard abs.

“Perfect,” Byakuya breathed, just as Eishirō clucked his tongue and said, “The Captain of the Guard would have a fit.”

Then, realizing what Byakuya had said, Eishirō quickly tried to recover with a cough and a, “That is… she would be so pleased to have you in her service.”

Renji laughed, and pulling at the loose front of the kosode, said, “Yeah, I’d slap me with a few citations about military dress for this, too, but there wasn’t much I could do unless I wanted to bust a seam.”

“It is the effect we’re going for,” Byakuya reminded them both. “In fact, the wilder and less controlled you look the better.”

Understanding the implication immediately, Renji reached up and undid his hair tie. As the crimson cascade fell about his shoulders he said, “So, no shoes either, huh? You want me to look like I just came up out of the Rukongai yesterday or something?”

“Yes,” Byakuya said, trying to keep down the strange lust that bubbled up at that thought. “Which means you’ll have to leave Zabimaru behind and carry one of our dead blades.”

Renji made a little unhappy face, but Eishirō nodded and said, “One is waiting at the estate. I had the Captain of the Guard pull something suitable from her armory.”

Byakuya allowed a thin smile at the two intuitively brilliant men in his life. “Then it seems we are all set.”

#

It was fascinating to Renji how quickly he became invisible in Kuchiki servants’ blues. 

He’d expected to have to do a lot of explaining as he followed Byakuya back to the estate across the Division proper, but, despite the fact that he’d done nothing to disguise his bright red hair or his signature ink, most people’s eyes seemed to register the Kuchiki crest only long enough to skip right over the rest of him.

At least one person noticed his lack of shoes, however. She looked like she might give him a snotty comment over it, only to look up into Renji’s eyes and nearly fall over trying switch into a respectful bow.

Renji leaned forward wanting to tell Byakuya about this observation. He stopped himself. For one, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to call Byakuya while wearing this get-up. ‘Taicho’ was the wrong thing, but Renji wasn’t sure he could choke out anything above ‘Kuchiki-dono.’ Maybe he should just drop into the role completely and call Byakuya ‘oyabun’ or ‘tenchō.’ Renji tried to remember back to his Academy days, when he was fresh up out of Inuzuri. But that was no help. He and Rukia had had enough time on the road to adjust to the new levels of politeness. Mostly, he’d figured out the appropriate honorifics by the time they’d made the Academy’s doors.

But, how did the Captain of Byakuya’s Guard even recruit people? Did they pick up Academy drop-outs? That seemed like a good place to recruit, especially since any of those people would jump at a job inside the Seireitei--’cuz it would not only be paramilitary work, but also it’d mean food.

Did they ever circumvent the whole process? Just go trolling through the Rukongai for volunteers? 

Renji always wondered where Byakuya’s staff came from. It seemed like a lot of them had inherited their positions. But that wouldn’t work for soldiers, would it? There was no guarantee the child would be as powerful as the parent. Then again, given how they’d all performed in the latest squabble that had ended in the chaos of a burned theater, maybe that didn’t matter so much. Maybe extra kids went to soldiering. Maybe that’s just how it worked.

Pulling his fingers through his hair, Renji silently followed Byakuya past the gate guard--who didn’t even look at Renji twice--and into the estate. The fuck? These bozos were going to get a crash course in ‘what we look for when letting people in and out of the Division’ tomorrow morning. New rule: at least look at the servant’s face so maybe you can identify them later….

Renji had to take a breath to calm himself.

Byakuya must have heard the frustration in his sigh. “It occurs to me that you might as well continue to be my shadow. Once you’ve gotten your standard issue katana, you can act the part of bodyguard through dinner, if you wish.”

“That means I don’t get to eat, right? I just got to sit behind you and watch.”

Glancing over his shoulder as though to gauge Renji’s seriousness, Byakuya frowned. “I’ll be sure to make up for it. Eishirō can have a feast for you prepared in the master suite.”

Renji shrugged. “Yeah, that’s fine. If my stomach growls through the whole thing, that’s just more convincing.”

Byakuya raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I suppose so.”

At the front door, the Captain of the Guard was waiting. Her eyes widened at Renji, but she handed him a plain katana with a Kuchiki blue tsuka. As he tucked it into place, she reached out and attempted to tuck the folds of the kosode in tighter. Renji could feel the stitching creaking against his shoulder as she did. Byakuya said, “Leave it. It’s best if he looks uncouth.”

“It’s my reputation, my lord,” she said with a frown at Renji’s wild hair.

Byakuya cut through further argument: “And it will only be increased by rumors of such a powerful presence in your ranks.”

Her jaw flexed, but she let go of the kosode decisively and stepped aside. “Yes, my lord.”

Renji wanted to apologize, especially when, with her head bowed, she noticed his lack of footwear and looked ready to burst a blood vessel. 

Shoes. It was funny how such a tiny thing spoke volumes. Somewhere around District Forty-three, Rukia had noticed they were the only ones without shoes. They’d been able to steal her a pair that fit that first night. It’d taken two more districts and one massive bar brawl until Renji’d snagged his own. He’d never been so glad they did. That, even more than their clothes or their accents, set them apart from other people in the upper districts. He was pleased to have been in possession of shoes during that first Academy inspection, too. He’d seen the looks those without had gotten.

It was the exact same look he was getting now.

Unsurprisingly, the most vicious looks were coming from other servants. Like the Captain of the Guard, you could almost hear the snarling ‘you’re bringing us down!’ in their angry gazes.

Squaring his shoulders, Renji lifted his head and put on his best ‘fuck you, anyway’ expression. This was just pretend, and he was pretending he was a mean motherfucker straight up from the Rukongai, recruited to bash some noble heads in.

Anyway, there was something familiar about this noticeable invisibility. Following Byakuya around like this was a lot like the Hanami. If anyone stopped Byakuya too long, he snarled and put a hand on… ugh, it was weird to wrap his fist around soulless pig-iron. It was particularly disturbing because the shape was right--mostly--but the feeling was all wrong.

Well, he’d have time to get used to that. And, thank gods it was all just part of the costume.

Finally, Byakuya made his entrance. It seemed there was going to be some kind of small meal served before the main talks. Renji had thought the idea of serving dinner was kind of an odd choice when Byakuya first mentioned it, but now he understood a little better. Byakuya had a table, alone, on a small dias. Yakimura and his representatives had their own tables, beneath Byakuya. There would be no pre-negotiations chit-chat. This was more theater. Yakimura was likely about to be treated to the delicacies of a lifetime--all the expensive stuff, the best cuts, the finest preparation--another way of showing Byakuya’s supreme superiority, and, as a bonus, his good manners as a host.

When Byakuya sat, Renji did the same, several paces behind him, far enough away to be moderately unobtrusive, but keeping Yakimura’s henchmen in sight. At least Renji assumed it was Yakimura who sat alone, in the front. Yakimura was surprisingly unassuming--hair black and long and silky enough to mark him as a Kuchiki. Likewise, he had the delicate, almost feminine features Renji associated with Kuchiki. But, Yakimura lacked the sharpness and strong angles that gave Byakuya his haughty commanding presence. In comparison, Yakimura was softer and rounder.

Renji sat a modified seiza, a position he learned in iaido classes at Academy--an art that emphasized a quick ability to draw. Renji was shit at seiza, but he fucking excelled at zanjutsu. Just adopting this posture caused a ripple among the henchmen.

So much so that Yakimura’s gaze shifted from Byakuya. Catching his eye, Renji gave his very best Eleventh Division ‘I will enjoy slitting your throat, you pansy-ass noble, and I shall dance in the gouts of your life’s blood’ glare.

Yakimura not only broke eye contact first, but he also had to stifle a shiver, as well. 

Purposefully, Renji let out a wicked ‘gotcha’ chuckle and tried not to gloat when Yakimura flushed a little in shame.

The rest of the silent dinner went much the same. Renji played eye-fuck games while holding a strong iaido pose. It was a little tough on his knees, but it was odd how knowing he was doing it for effect and as a martial pose strengthened Renji’s resolve. Normally, sitting like this for a whole dinner would have killed him by now. But, this? He could fucking do this all day.

When the last course was eaten and the dishes taken away, Byakuya stood up. Playing it up, Renji shifted smoothly upright, adding a little hop to help shake off the pins and needles. As calculated, he was on his feet far faster than any of the Yakimura’s henchmen. So, he settled back resting his arms casually on the hilt of the katana, as though it were his trusted Zabimaru. When Byakuya turned to head out of the room, Renji dropped into a respectful bow until he’d passed. Turning his back, he followed Byakuya out.

“That went surprisingly well,” Byakuya noted quietly as they moved along the back ways to the war room. “I don’t know what you were doing back there, but you terrified Yakimura and his henchmen.”

“Showing off a little Academy training, is all,” Renji murmured. “Probably they’re worried I’m a highly-trained dropout now.”

“Clever,” Byakuya acknowledged. “With luck, we’ve already won half the battle.

“Fingers crossed,” Renji said.

#

The battle, Byakuya thought with a sigh, might be half won, but there was still a long, boring stretch ahead. Worse, this was the sort of boring he had to pay minute attention to. In these ‘compliments to the host,’ were there hidden barbs that had significance? 

Egads, this is why he so often failed at court. Byakuya had no patience for this sort of game of cat and mouse. In fact, after ten minutes of platitudes and false compliments, Byakuya said, “Stop. We weary of this empty talk. If you have a grievance with us, then air it.”

Yakimura almost physically choked he was so shocked. 

_Good_ , Byakuya thought, _be thrown off your game. And be reminded that I’m no stuffed shirt, but a warrior._

“My lord,” Yakimura began hesitantly, “You have taken my livelihood.”

“Yakimura,” Byakuya replied calmly, but succinctly, “You threatened my soldiers. What had you expected to happen? Had you been successful in your kidnapping attempt and demanded ransom from my unseated officer, what would you have bargained in exchange for her life?”

“I… my lord, that was not my idea.” Yakimura all but looked over his shoulder.

“You’re a fool then, Yakimura, to be lead by the nose into ruin. Who pulled your strings? Tell me and renounce your connection to them and I will release the majority of your holdings immediately.” As much as Byakuya wanted a legacy in the theater, he’d prefer not to earn it in blood.

When Yakimura seemed to hesitate, Byakuya could feel Renji take a heavy step forward behind him.

As he watched the emotions flit across Yakimura's face, Byakuya steeled himself for the possibility that the answer was going to be his very own aunt. He didn’t want to believe she was capable of actually pitting Kuchiki against Kuchiki, and seemed sincerely horrified when he’d talked to her about all this before… but, there was always that possibility. And, if so, what would he do then? 

Would he have his own flesh and blood--his father’s sister--executed?

If the answer was Isoroku… well, then he’d have to admit that Renji was right. Paying off a gambler only established a relationship, and ended nothing. What to do about him was an easier question--it was surprisingly easy to imagine an ex-lover dead.

Especially one who had taken money to sexually assault Renji. If he were a different man, he would have sent assassins after Isoroku already---to dispatch him and retrieve the money. But, Byakuya had never been that sort.

Unfortunately.

Behind him, Byakuya heard another heavy foot as Renji took another menacing step forward and growled, “Can I kill him now, boss?”

Byakuya raised a hand. “Not just yet. I’m hopeful Yakimura has a shred of sense.”

“Kuchiki,” Yakimura hissed. At first Byakuya thought Yakimura was merely insulting him by not using any honorifics and spitting out his surname like that, but then Yakimura continued, “Osamu Kuchiki.”

Among his relatives there were almost none that bore the surname Kuchiki. In fact, beyond Byakuya and his aunt, there were only two: Hirako and her father--Osamu.

“But why?” Byakuya asked out loud. “Why would Osamu betray me? His daughter will marry the heir. His position only elevates with her.”

Yakimura shook his head. “That daughter of his is a perversion! You and your kind made her the way she is.”

“Oi! Shut it,” Renji said before he could stop himself, “Lady Hirako is a Shinigami.”

“Exactly,” Yakimura sneered. “And, a ‘scientist’ on top of it. The Kuchiki family should rid itself of this disease.”

Byakuya’s mind was reeling. “Disease? Are you equating Shinigami power with sickness?”

Yakimura’s chin went up. “Yes! It’s a corruption that comes from breeding with outliers, Rukongai trash. It makes us less pure.”

Byakuya blinked. This was unexpected. Yet, had he not heard this sort of talk from his aunt? His family had insisted on the purification rite for Hisana, Rukia, and even Renji out of this fear of “taint.”

However, he had no idea this idea was so widespread. 

Or that it would engender so much hate and fear that it would trigger a clan war. “The Kuchiki clan head was one of the earliest Shinigami Gotei captains. We are True First. This power has been with us from the beginning.”

“And it’s time for that to change!” Yakimura said. 

“To what end?” Byakuya asked. “If you were to get your wish, who would defend your holdings from Hollows?”

“The Gotei would protect us,” Yakimura insisted. “But Kuchiki themselves would be pure.”

Ah. 

Byakuya stood up. “I’ve heard enough. You see me as unworthy of my title--you see my blood as impure? So be it. There is an unbroken line of Kuchiki that runs through my veins that I swore to defend. If you would destroy that tradition, then I have no use for you.”

Byakuya lifted a finger casually and, with hardly any effort at all, shot each of Yakimura’s henchmen clean through with a shot of byakurai. It happened far too fast for any of them to even react. While they lay on the floor writhing in blood, Byakuya turned his back and said to Renji, “Take this fool away. Lock him up. We will dispatch the guard to bring Osamu to us.”

Perhaps the shock of the violence had Renji slipping up enough to make a bowing salute and say, “Hai, Taicho!” but, as if realizing his mistake, he quickly snarled, “My fucking pleasure.”

As Byakuya strode out of the room, he noticed that his father’s kimono was spattered in blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's been so long between installments!


End file.
